


Ink Drop

by AlexiaRexia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass Clarke, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feelings, Lawyer Lexa, Smut, Tattoo Artist Clarke, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and a cleavage tattoo, and a harry potter tattoo, clarke has a full sleeve, definitely not a slow burn, not even close because these idiots are so thirsty for one another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaRexia/pseuds/AlexiaRexia
Summary: Lexa is in need of a touch up on her prized back tattoo and doesn't trust just anyone to complete the job. She begs her cousin, Lincoln, to get her an appointment with one of the youngest and most successful tattoo artists in all of Polis, Clarke Griffin. As soon as she meets the artist, she can't stop imagining her naked and wet beneath her...Clarke is the successful young owner of Ink Drop Tattoo Gallery and Polis' most sought-after tattoo artist. When Lincoln calls in a favor that she owes him, she has to come in on her day off to meet with his cousin to discuss a tattoo touch up. Little does she know, Lincoln's cousin is a woman she's admired/lusted after for the last year...





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, faithful readers! I am back for this three-part fic that popped into my head over the last few weeks. I have had some unplanned time off work due to medical reasons, so I've been bored out of my mind and in need of a creative outlet. So, this is what happened.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The only thing I know about tattooing is from my own experiences as a client. It anything seems off, please let me know so that I can fix it for a realistic story. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Lexa scrunched her nose in annoyance as she studied the tattoo that had been etched along her spine. It was difficult to get a good look in the mirror over her bathroom sink, but she could tell that it was fading. Well, a portion of it was fading, anyway. The top part seemed fine, but lower, towards the small of her back, was definitely lighter than the top part. The once stark ink was now dull and not as clear.

 

She’d gotten the tattoo shortly after her eighteenth birthday, two weeks after she’d finally escaped the clutches of The System. It had been a gift from her cousin, Lincoln, who happened to work in a tattoo shop. He was a piercer, but his colleague, Gustus, had done the art. Sadly, Gus died only a few years after that. 

 

Why was just that part fading? She was now twenty-eight, so it had been about ten years. 

 

Not making a habit of looking at her back, she hadn’t even noticed it until her best friend, Anya, had made a comment after their workout that morning. Lexa favored sports bras and tight-fitted capri workout pants when she worked out, particularly when she went for a run, so her back had been exposed to the other woman while they spared. 

 

“Lincoln, I need a favor,” she said into her phone a few minutes later. 

 

“What’s up, Lex?” Lincoln answered. 

 

“You know my spine tattoo that Gus did?”

 

“Yeah?” he replied, a sad note in his voice. 

 

“I need a touch up. It’s fading a bit.” 

 

“Oh, really?” Lincoln sounded surprised. 

 

“Yeah, towards the bottom,” Lexa explained. “I know you’re working at that fancy shop in town; think you could get me an appointment with one of your super talented coworkers this week?” 

 

Lincoln whistled. “I’m not sure,” he said. “They all book up months in advance.”

 

Lexa grunted. “I just don’t trust anyone else,” she said. “I need the Lincoln seal of approval. Know anyone else?” 

 

“Not that I trust with Gus’ work,” he replied. “And, don’t tell any of my other coworkers this, but I’d only trust Clarke with that piece.”

 

“The owner?” Lexa replied. She’d heard the name in passing, but had never met the woman who owned the tattoo parlor where Lincoln worked, Ink Drop Tattoo Gallery. 

 

“That’s her,” Lincoln said. “And she’s booked solid a good six months out.”

 

“I can’t wait six months,” Lexa groaned. “I mean, I guess I  _ could,  _ but it’s already annoying the shit out of me and I just became aware of it this morning.” 

 

“Let me talk to Clarke,” Lincoln said. “She still owes me from last week when I pierced her—”

 

“I don’t want to know!” Lexa cried out, knowing Lincoln always had crazy stories of piercing weird, and sometimes extremely intimate, body parts. She shuddered at the memory of the story about the labia corset job he’d done on a woman.

 

Lincoln let out a chuckle. “I was just going to say her nose,” he said. “She’s not your average tattoo artist. She has no fear of tattoo guns piercing her flesh millions of times, but actual body piercings? It took three shots of tequila just for her to allow me to pierce her nose. You think that girl would ever allow me near her nipples or hooha with a piercing needle?”

 

Lexa sighed. Great. Now that’s all she’d be thinking of if she ever met this woman. “Thanks for that visual, Linc,” she said dryly. “And isn’t it illegal to pierce someone who’s drunk?”

 

“You’re welcome,” Lincoln replied. “And she was tipsy, but she signed all the papers before taking any shots.”

 

“Does that make it legal?” 

 

“Hell if I know,” Lincoln said. “If it were a customer, I wouldn’t do it, but she’s my boss and good friend.”

 

“Nice to know you have  _ some  _ morals, then.”

 

“Hey, do you want me to talk to Clarke or not?” Lincoln asked. 

 

Lexa laughed. “Yes, please,” she said. “Tell her I’ll pay her double if she can squeeze me in some time this coming week.” 

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lincoln said. 

 

“You’re a gem, Linc,” Lexa said. 

 

“Can I get that in writing?” 

  
  


∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  
  


Turns out, Clarke felt a strong sense of loyalty to her employees, and she did owe Lincoln a favor for the whole nose thing. She had no idea what the rationale was for why she was perfectly fine with a tattoo gun stabbing her millions of times but the thought of a piercing needle poking a hole in her body completely wrecked her. It had taken two hours and three shots of tequila to finally allow Lincoln near her with the needle to pierce her left nostril, which was healing quite nicely and sporting a small silver ring. Her mother hated it, of course, which made it all the more appealing to Clarke.

 

Abby Griffin, trauma surgeon at one of the most esteemed hospitals in the country, wasn’t completely happy about Clarke’s career path. Or her full sleeve of tattoos (second sleeve was in the works). What harm was a nose piercing on top of it all? 

 

It wasn’t that her mother was rude or nasty about her chosen profession or group of misfit friends, but she made it known she wasn’t happy about it, either. At least, she hadn’t been happy in the beginning. Clarke knew she’d disappointed her mother when she’d dropped out of college a year shy of graduating to work full time as a tattoo artist. But she’d had to. The premed program had been sucking the life out of her. The only thing that had made her feel like herself again had been when she’d started designing tattoos on the side, then apprenticing part time at the tattoo parlor. When her mentor had seen her potential, he’s convinced her to try it out full time. And she’d never looked back. 

 

Now, five years and some thousands of tattoos later, she as running her own successful shop at only twenty-five. The fact that she was so young and considered a huge success in her chosen field had appeased Abby slightly. She still wished her daughter had followed in her footsteps, but when she’d realized how happy the art of tattoos made her, she’d supported her only child. She’d believed in her and had invested her own money so that Clarke could buy her own parlor when her mentor had retired. He’d given her a great deal, but she’d still never have been able to afford it without her mother’s help. She knew she was lucky in that regard. 

 

But it didn’t stop the fact that her mother was currently looking around her pride and joy with a critical eye. 

 

“Mama G!” 

 

Clarke chuckled. Perfect timing. If anything would make Abby Griffin’s mood change, it was Raven Reyes, Clarke’s childhood best friend and now the co-owner of the shop (Raven handled all the business sides of running your own tattoo parlor, like handling the money and taking care of advertising). Raven had been a staple in the Griffin residence since they’d been in the fourth grade and Clarke had given her half her sandwich at lunch when she saw that the new girl didn’t have anything to eat. From that day, they’d been inseparable, and Abby had started packing double everything in Clarke’s lunchbox.

 

Abby’s frown instantly turned into a wide smile as Raven made her way over to where they stood by the counter. “Ah, Raven, just the girl I was hoping to see,” Abby said cheerfully as she pulled the brunette in for a hug. 

 

“Hey!” Clarke cried out. She put a hand on her chest to feigning hurt. 

 

Abby laughed and pulled Clarke in for a side hug. “You’ll always be my favorite daughter,” she said. 

 

Clarke huffed. “I’m your only daughter,” she said. Then she grinned. “It’s okay; I know the pecking order.”

 

“And don’t you forget it,” Raven said with a finger pointed at Clarke. Then she turned back to Abby. “What’s up, Mama G?” 

 

“I just wanted to touch base with you about the finances,” Abby said. 

 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Clarke said, having no interest in their shop talk. When they got into a conversation about ‘the finances,’ it was all Clarke could do not to fall asleep. It wasn’t that she was ignorant when it came to money or that she didn’t care about how well they were doing, of course she cared. But to Raven and her mother, ‘the finances’ included things about possible stock investments and other things that Clarke had no clue about. Raven was the one with the aptitude for business management. Clarke was in charge of personnel and the actual art of tattooing. 

 

Raven and Abby didn’t even acknowledge her as she made her exit, heading towards the back room to prepare for her first appointment of the day. It was still early by tattoo artists’ standards--barely nine in the morning--but Clarke like to get a jump start on her days. She opened the shop Tuesday through Saturday at ten sharp, and she left around eight or nine at night, though the shop stayed open until two in the morning. She trusted all of her staff to close up then, but she was usually in bed asleep by midnight. Sunday and Monday were her weekend days, though she often still dropped in to check up on things or for a special client. 

 

“Hey, Clarke, you got a minute?” a voice called out from behind her just as she was about to enter the small office she shared with Raven to grab a water and check her booking calendar. 

 

Clarke turned and saw that it was Lincoln, the head piercer and her good friend. She smiled. “Sure, what’s up?” she asked as she pushed open the door and entered, leaving the door open for him to follow. 

 

“So, you know how you owe me for the nose?” he said, a teasing note in his voice. 

 

Clarke took a swig of water and narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah?” she said. “Don’t tell me O convinced you to set me up on one of her blind dates,” she said. “I owe you, not her.” Octavia, Clarke’s other best friend and Lincoln’s fianceé, had been on her case lately about allowing her to set her up on a date. Clarke, having been the victim of Octavia’s ‘set-ups’ in the past, always declined. 

 

Lincoln laughed. “No, no,” he said. “It’s my cousin.”

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You are trying to set me up,” she said dryly. 

 

“No, I swear,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him. “It’s her tattoo,” he explained. “Part of it is fading and it was Gus’ work.” 

 

Clarke nodded in understanding. Gus had been a well-respected and intensely sought-after artist at the same shop where she aprinticed, and his death had hit her hard. “How long ago did she get it?”

 

“About ten years ago,” Lincoln explained. “It’s along her spine. Amazing piece. But she doesn’t trust just anyone to touch it up, and neither do I. I’d only trust you.”

 

“Wow, I’m honored,” Clarke said, touched. “I’ll never be able to match Gus’ work.

 

“You’re the best,” Lincoln said. “And you don’t give yourself enough credit. I saw that piece you did on Nyko last week.”

 

Clarke felt pride swell in her chest. “Yeah, that was pretty badass,” she said with a cheeky grin. 

 

“So is hers. I was hoping you could fit her in sometime this week,” Lincoln said. “She’s annoyed and stressing about it. She says she’ll even pay you double.” 

 

Clarke hummed and bent over the desk to look at the large iMac screen, her Google calendar that they used as a booking schedule already open. “I’m pretty booked this week,” she said, chewing on her lower lip. “But I can come in on Monday if that works.”

 

“Really? That’s your day off.”

 

“I owe you, remember?” Clarke said with a smile. “And it would also be to honor Gus. No need for double rates.” 

 

“Cool, I’ll let her know,” Lincoln said, pulling out his phone to text Lexa. “She’s a work-obsessed lawyer, so I’d bank on her not being available until later in the day. Probably around eight. That okay?” 

 

Clarke waved him off. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll put her in for eight, and if that doesn’t work, let me know and I’ll change it. What’s her name?” 

 

“Lexa,” Lincoln said. “Last name Woods.”

 

Clarke’s fingers paused in their typing of the woman’s name on the calendar. She looked up at Lincoln with a curious expression. “Woods? Lexa Woods? As in  _ Alexandria Woods _ ?” 

 

Lincoln nodded. “Yep.”

 

Clarke straightened. “Alexandria Woods who single-handedly pioneered Polis’ Human Rights Campaign against Pike last year?” 

 

Lincoln nodded again, grinning. “That’s her,” he said. 

 

“Dude, you never told me you were related to Alexandria Woods!” Clarke said. “She’s a freaking hero.”

 

Lincoln shrugged. “She’s my baby cousin,” he said. “Youngest of the family tree so far. Well, at least, she was until our other cousin had a kid last year. She’s just Lexa to me.” 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. Leave it to Lincoln to casually forget to mention that he was related to Alexandria freaking Woods. The prior year had been a big election year for Polis, and Pike had been the incumbent running for Governor. The man was pure evil, at least to Clarke and anyone else who actually cared about other people. Corruption, greed, and power-hungry pretty much summed Pike up. It had been quite a battle between him and his opponent, Marcus Kane, but with the campaign run by Alexandria Woods, Kane had come out on top. It was because of her that Pike had been sent packing and the city of Polis found a new peace. 

 

Clarke sighed and completed scheduling the time on Monday. “Yeah, okay, just let me know what she says about Monday at eight.” Then she nodded. “So Alexandria Woods has a badass spine tattoo?” she mused. “I wouldn’t have guessed that at all.”

 

Lincoln laughed. “That’s just one of a few,” he said. “And she prefers ‘Lexa’ outside of business.”

 

“Noted,” Clarke said. 

 

“Griff, your first appointment is here!” Raven’s voice called out from the front of the shop. 

 

“Got it!” Clarke replied. She gave Lincoln one last look as she exited the room. “Just don’t tell her I went all fangirl when I heard her name, okay?”

 

Lincoln gave her a thumbs up. “Got it, boss,” he said. 

 

Clarke groaned. “Stop that,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked towards the front where her first appointment was waiting for her. She smiled in greeting and tried her hardest to forget all about Lincoln and his pioneer of a cousin as she discussed tattoo design with the client. It worked; art was the one thing that could make her forget about anything. 

  
  


∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  
  


“I need a bucket of coffee and a steak so juicy it’s still mooing.”

 

Clarke blinked at Raven. “Gross,” she said. “How about a call in to Chin’s Buffet and a giant Cherry Coke?” 

 

Raven thought about it, then nodded. “Sold,” she said. “Why are you here, anyway? It’s Monday.” She sat on the edge of the desk and looked down at Clarke with interest. 

 

“Lincoln’s cousin is coming in for a consult and possible touch-up,” Clarke reminded her as she pulled up her phone and opened the GrubHub app. “Hey, see if anyone else wants food.”

 

“I want food,” Lincoln said from the doorway. “What’s on the menu?”

 

“Chin’s,” Raven said. “You in?” 

 

“Absolutely,” Lincoln said. “Hey, order some extra vegetable lo mein for Lexa. I’m certain she forgot to eat dinner, and she’s on her way and will be here in about ten minutes.” 

 

Clarke paused in her perusal of the app, and looked at the clock. “It’s only seven-fifteen,” she said. 

 

Lincoln shrugged. “She finished work early and I told her to come on in. Figured it would get you out of here quicker. Hope that’s okay?” 

 

He looked nervous, so Clarke allowed him to relax. “No problem,” she said. “The sooner I can get into my bed, the better. We have an early delivery tomorrow.” 

 

Raven groaned, remembering that she had promised Clarke to help her out with the delivery. “Who fucking delivers at eight in the morning?” 

 

Clarke laughed as she returned her attention to her phone and placed the food order. “It’s not even that early,” she said. 

 

“I never go to bed until at least three AM,” Raven grumbled. “It’s fucking early.” 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone as she stood. “Be here by seven forty-five, or I will make you pay for your next tattoo.”

 

Raven glared. “I hate you.”

 

“You love me!” Clarke called out as she exited the room and ducked into the one-room bathroom. She shut the door and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The makeup she’d put on that morning was still intact, if a bit worn. But it would have to do. At least her eyeliner game was still strong. 

 

Not that it mattered. Lexa was just a client. Lincoln’s cousin. No different than any other paying customer that walked through the doors of the shop. 

 

She kept repeating that to herself as she relieved her bladder and then washed her hands. 

 

Just another client. 

 

Who happened to successfully lead a campaign with diversity, equity, and human rights as the main platform to crush that bigot, Pike. 

 

God, there was nothing Clarke found sexier than a human rights advocate who knew their stuff and didn’t let anyone get in their way as they fought for the rights of everyone. And it didn’t help one bit that Alexandria Woods was a freaking goddess  _ and _ open about being a lesbian. 

 

Clarke grinned at the memory of Pike once trying to use Lexa’s sexuality against Marcus Kane’s campaign, but the response from the Kane campaign had just made their lead that much stronger. Score one for the LGBTQ community. 

 

Right. Just another client. She took a deep breath and opened the door to the bathroom. She just stepped out when she heard Lincoln call for her from the main storefront. “Yo, Griff, Lexa’s here!” 

 

“Coming!” Clarke called back and hurried to the front, smoothing her palms over the ripped front of her black jeans. She rounded the corner and had to force herself not to stop in her tracks at the sight of Lexa  _ freaking  _ Woods in her shop. Tall and lithe, Lexa was dressed professionally in dark gray trousers with a front press so sharp Clarke wouldn't be surprised if it could cut glass and a stark white silk blouse beneath a blazer that matched the trousers. Black stiletto heels finished the look, making her stand several inches taller than Clarke. 

 

Clarke suddenly felt severely underdressed in her ripped skinny jeans, faded CBGB tank top, and red Converse sneakers that had seen better days, but that she couldn’t find in herself to part with. 

 

She plastered a smile on her face and stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Clarke Griffin,” she said, offering her hand to Lexa to shake. 

 

Lexa returned her smile and gripped her hand. “Lexa,” she said. 

 

“I know,” Clarke said. “Huge fan.”

 

Lexa raised a single eyebrow. Their hands were still clasped and neither made a move to let go. “Fan?” she repeated. 

 

Clarke let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, Yeah,” she said. “From the campaign last year. I followed it closely.”

 

“Ah,” Lexa said, finally letting go of Clarke’s hand. “Well, thanks, I guess.” 

 

Clarke shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Right, anyway, Lincoln told me you’re having some issues with fading?” 

 

Lexa nodded. “Just part of it,” she said. “Ok my back.”

 

A customer walked in and Clarke nodded to Lincoln to handle it. “I got it from here,” she said. “Thanks.”

 

He nodded and moved to help the customer and Clarke indicated for Lexa to follow her to the back. “We’ll set up in one of the private rooms so you’re not flashing anyone,” she said with a grin tossed over her shoulder. 

 

Lexa laughed and Clarke nearly swooned. “That would be much appreciated, yes,” Lexa said. 

 

Once behind the closed door, Clarke found herself fidgety. Not like her, and definitely not a good thing for a tattoo artist. She decided to try and calm her nerves by talking. “Tell me about the tattoo?” she said as she sat on a stool. She motioned for Lexa to sit on a nearby chair. “It’s Gus’ work?”

 

Lexa nodded, a sad expression crossing over her face. “I was a foster kid,” she said. “And Gus was trying to adopt me, but the state wouldn’t let him because he was unmarried and worked odd hours. Or, that’s what they said, anyway. I think they were just assholes because he wasn’t rich and white.”

 

Clarke made a disgruntled noise. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “He would have made an awesome dad.”

 

Lexa looked surprised. “You knew him?”

 

Clarke nodded. “I was apprenticed at the same shop he worked at. I was actually the owner’s apprentice, but I got to know Gus quite well and got to see a lot of his work. He was a genius with a tattoo needle.”

 

Lexa smiled nostalgically. “He sure was,” she said. “Anyway, I aged out of foster care and he did it just after I turned eighteen.”

 

“You first tattoo was a large piece on your spine?” Clarke asked. “Impressive.”

 

Lexa hummed. “Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, and it took several sessions, but it was worth it.”

 

“Can I take a look?” Clarke asked, prouder that she’d managed to ask in a confident voice that didn’t crack. 

 

Now Lexa looked a bit nervous. But she nodded and stood. She shucked off her blazer and looked around for a place to hang it. Clarke stood and held out a hand. “I can hang that on the door handle,” she said. Lexa gave her the blazer and Clarke busied herself with the task so as not to appear lecherous as Lexa unbuttoned her blouse. She turned slightly away as she the material parted and she tugged it from her pants. Then it was sliding down her arms. 

 

Clarke immediately noticed another tattoo circling her right arm. It appeared tribal and incredibly intricate. “Is that Gus’ work, too?” she asked before she could stop herself. 

 

Lexa looked up and noted where Clarke’s attention was. She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “He did it about a year before he died.” 

 

Clarke nodded. “He did this entire arm,” she said. She pointed to her left arm, which was covered in an intricate, colorful galaxy of stars and swirling patterns. She rarely went anywhere without people making a comment on how amazing it was. 

 

“That screams Gus,” she said with another smile. “It’s incredible.” 

 

“Thanks,” Clarke said. Then she realized that Lexa was standing there in her lace cream colored bra, shirt in her hands. “Uh, your back?” 

 

Lexa blinked. “Oh! Right.” She turned and pulled her hair over one shoulder. Clarke took in the tattoo, which was partly covered by the band of the bra. It was stunning. Definitely the work of Gus. But it was fading towards the bottom. And then Clarke noticed something else. 

 

“Do you get a lot of sun?” she asked. 

 

“Uh, not really,” Lexa said. “I guess some? Why?” 

 

“Well, I notice a tan line here,” she said, allowing her fingers to trail over the line in question that was just below the band of Lexa’s bra. Lexa inhaled sharply. “Sorry,” Clarke said. 

 

“No, it’s fine,” Lexa said. “Just wasn’t expecting it. And that would be my running tan, I suppose.” She said with a chuckle. “I run a lot and usually wear just a sports bra.”

 

Clarke nodded even though Lexa was facing the other way. “I think I figured out the issue, then,” she said. “The top part is protected from the sun by the sports bra, but this part,” she trailed her fingers over the bottom portion, “is unprotected. UV rays can fade a tattoo over time.”

 

“Oh,” Lexa said, her voice sounding lower than before. “Okay, why didn’t I know that?”

 

“Not many people do,” Clarke said. “And not everyone is affected the same way.”

 

“Can you fix it?” Lexa asked. 

 

“Absolutely,” Clarke said. “You sure you trust me to do so?”

 

Lexa shrugged. “Lincoln trusts you,” she said. 

 

Clarke hummed. “I need  _ you _ to trust me, though,” she said. She took a step back. “Why don’t we get some food and discuss it a bit more? We ordered Chinese and it should be here soon. Lincoln told me to order extra veggie lo mein for you.” 

 

Lexa felt her stomach growl at the mention of food. “God yes,” she said. “I’m starving.” She pushed her arms back through the sleeves of her blouse and buttoned it up, turning to face Clarke as she did so. She noticed the slight pink tint on the blonde’s cheeks and grinned. She purposely left the top two buttons of her shirt undone. “Lincoln never mentioned that his boss was our age,” she said. “I’m not sure why, but I pictured a silver-haired badass biker chick, not a stunning blonde bombshell in her twenties.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I’m not sure how to take that,” she said, half joking but also half serious. 

 

Lexa shot her a grin that Clarke swore up and down was flirtatious. “Oh, it’s definitely a compliment,” she said. She didn’t give Clarke a chance to respond, though, opening the door and looking at her expectantly. “Food?”

 

Clarke took a steadying breath and nodded as she stepped out into the short hallway and led Lexa back out to the main room. She took the short distance to refocus and clear her head. Lexa was a client. And Lincoln’s cousin. That’s it. Nothing more. 

 

She’d never crushed on a client, and she wasn’t about to start now.

 

At least, that’s what she told herself. 

 

(She was totally lying.) 

  
  


∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  
  


Lexa scolded herself as she followed the blonde tattoo artist out of the room. What the hell was she thinking? She couldn’t get involved with anyone, let alone her potential tattoo artist, sexy as she may be. 

 

Not that she had anything against tattoo artists as potential dates. She greatly respected the profession as a whole, particularly the artistry that she could never even dream to match. She didn’t have a creative bone in her logic-driven left-brained body. 

 

But dating her cousin’s boss and the woman who would likely be etching ink into her skin didn’t seem like the best idea. Plus, she wasn’t really looking to get involved with anyone, regardless. 

 

So she was going to completely ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach that she got when she looked into Clarke’s blue eyes. And she was definitely going to ignore that tingling feeling that she got in her extremities when Clarke fingers had brushed the skin of her back, along her tan line and the tattoo. 

 

“So, what’s the verdict?” Lincoln asked as they stepped back into the room. 

 

“Sun exposure,” Clarke said. “Someone apparently has a thing for running in a sports bra and didn’t put on sunscreen.”

 

Lexa gave a sheepish look. “It never occurred to me to put sunscreen on my back, okay?” she said. 

 

Lincoln chuckled. “Can you fix it?” he asked Clarke. 

 

“No sweat,” Clarke answered. “But Lexa here still doesn’t trust me enough to touch Gus’ work.”

 

“Hey,” Lexa said. “I never said that.”

 

Clarke gave her a reassuring smile. “You didn’t have to,” she said. “And I get it. We all do.” 

 

Lincoln and Raven, who had just joined them, nodded in agreement. 

 

“This is Raven, by the way,” Clarke said, introducing the newcomer. “Raven, Lincoln’s cousin, Lexa.”

 

“Ah, the hot lawyer you kept gushing over during the election last year,” Raven said with way too much glee as she shook Lexa’s hand. 

 

“Rae!” Clarke choked out. She turned bright red as she glared at the Latina. “I did not gush!” 

 

“‘Alexandria Woods’ activism is so sexy,’” Raven said in a high-pitched voice. “‘Alexandria’s campaign is the single most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed.’ Oh, and my personal favorite, ‘I would so do her. Especially if she were wearing one of those power suits and fuck me heels.’” 

 

“What? I never said that!” Clarke protested. 

 

“But you were thinking it,” Raven countered. 

 

“Food, now,” Clarke said, spying the delivery boy making his way towards the door. She gave Raven a shove, cheeks still burning. “Forgive my  _ ex _ -best friend, here,” she said. “She’s delusional.”

 

Lexa had watched the entire exchange with rapt attention. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Raven had exaggerated greatly, but given Clarke’s obvious embarrassment, it also didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was some truth behind Raven’s words. 

 

But Clarke looked extremely uncomfortable, and Lexa felt the need to reassure her. It didn’t feel like the time to tease and add insult to injury. “No worries,” she said. “I have a friend like that. No filter and always tries to embarrass me.” It was true. Anya was just as bad as Raven apparently was. 

 

Clarke looked slightly relieved, but still unsure. Lexa looked to Lincoln for help. 

 

“Clarke, why don’t you and Lexa head back to the employee lounge to eat and discuss the touch up. Maybe show her some of your work to convince her you’re legit and fully capable and worthy of touching up Gus’ work? I’ll keep an eye on Raven and make sure she doesn’t bother you.”

 

Raven, having just rejoined them with the food, stuck her tongue out at Lincoln, but didn’t protest. 

 

“Sounds good to me,” Lexa said, smiling at her cousin in thanks. 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Clarke said. They grabbed a few cartons of food and Clarke led Lexa back to the employee lounge. It was little more than a room with a small table, sink to wash hands, and full sized refrigerator, but it was clean and organized. Clarke grabbed her iPad on the way back, intent on showing Lexa the photos of her work that she stored on the device (and in iCloud because no way was she going to risk losing pictures of her prized artwork). 

 

“Sorry again about Raven,” Clarke said as they say at the table. “She thinks she’s funny.”

 

Lexa shook her head. “It’s really okay,” she said, taking a bite of the vegetable lo mein. “I mean, it’s not like she said anything negative.” She shot Clarke another grin before she could stop herself. 

 

Clarke gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, some people would argue that the comment about ‘doing’ someone is negative in an objectifying way. I never said that, by the way. I would never.” 

 

Lexa hummed. “But you said the other things?” 

 

Clarke blinked. “I mean, I may have mentioned how much I admire your work,” she said, cheeks turning red again. “And I  _ may  _ have mentioned that I thought you were attractive, but not in a creepy way like Raven suggested.” What Clarke didn’t say is that, yes, she’d used the term ‘hot.’ Because, well, she was. Clarke took a bite of her springroll to stop herself from saying anything else and embarrassing her more. 

 

Lexa took pity of Clarke and changed the subject. “Can I see some of your work?” she asked, indicating the iPad. 

 

“Oh!” Clarke said, grateful for the new topic. “Of course.” She wiped her fingertips on a napkin and unlocked the device. She opened her photo album and turned the iPad towards Lexa. “I only have photos of my work on this, so you can scroll freely,” she said. “Let me know if you have any questions or anything.”

 

Lexa nodded and brought the iPad closer, noting that the very first picture was of a brilliant tattoo of a winged Pegasus-like creature that spanned the entire back of a woman. “Wow,” she said, taking in the vibrant colors and intricate detail. “That’s all you?”

 

Clarke nodded with pride. “Took nearly six months of visits to complete,” she said. 

 

Lexa gave an impressed look before scrolling to the next photo. She continued through the album, becoming more and more impressed with Clarke’s work as she did so. She asked questions here and there, but was largely silent as she took in the detail of each tattoo. Some were simple and understated. Others incredibly detailed. She was particularly in awe by a tattoo along a woman’s rib cage that was so incredibly lifelike that it took Lexa a second to realize that her skin was not in fact peeled back to reveal muscle, tendon, and bone. “That’s incredibly creepy in a beautiful kind of way,” Lexa commented. 

 

Clarke laughed. “I’ll definitely take that as a compliment,” she said. “It was one of my favorite pieces to work on. The woman was a domestic abuse survivor and used the tattoo to cover some old scars. She was incredibly inspiring.” 

 

“Okay, well, I’m convinced,” Lexa said, pushing the iPad back towards Clarke. “I can see a bit of Gus in your work, but also something unique.” She grinned. “Maybe I’ll have to think about getting another piece done after you touch up my back.” 

 

Clarke returned her grin. “I’ll look forward to that,” she said. Then she checked her watch. “Okay, here’s the deal. I have to be here early tomorrow for a delivery, so I can’t spend the time required to touch it up tonight. And, you’ll probably have to forego wearing a bra or tight clothing for a few days, so I have a feeling Monday is not a good day for that.”

 

Lexa shook her head. “Definitely not,” she said. “But Lincoln said you’re booked solid?” 

 

Clarke shrugged. “I am, but I had a cancellation on Thursday and I decided not to fill it yet in anticipation of this. Friday would be better with the whole bra thing, but Fridays are the busiest after Saturdays.”

 

Lexa considered it for a moment. “It’s okay; I can work from home on Friday,” she said. “What time?”

 

“Seven,” Clarke said. “The girl who canceled was scheduled for a three hour block so I don’t have anyone else afterward.”

 

“You think it’ll take three hours?”

 

Clarke chuckled. “Nope, but it means I’ll get to go home early,” she said. “It’ll probably take an hour and a half. Maybe less. Touch ups can be a bit trickier than starting fresh. I don’t want the touched up section to not match the rest in terms of darkness. It’s delicate.”

 

Lexa nodded in understanding, then turned serious. “Just, don’t fuck it up, okay?” She made sure there was a teasing note in her voice, but at the same time, she was also dead serious. 

 

Clarke understood and nodded. “Got it,” she said. “I promise to honor Gus’ work.” 


	2. The Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to heat up... I wasn't kidding when I tagged this with "definitely not a slow burn" ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU so much for all the lovely comments on the first chapter! I know I've been AWOL the last several months, but things were crazy hectic with the new job and new city. Things are still crazy hectic! Many of you expressed concern over my cryptic "medical-related time off work" and I wanted to clear that up. I am okay! Just a torn ACL and PCL that required surgery, so a few weeks off work for me (it's definitely not possible to chase around 27 seven- and eight-year-olds with a bum knee!) So I've stuck at home, bored out of my mind, and will be until after Spring Break. So, this happened.

“You know Clarke is totally crushing on your cousin, right?”

 

Clarke wanted to pinch Raven. Like, she seriously wanted to cause her actual pain. “You’re delusional,” she said instead, rolling her eyes.

 

“I don’t know,” Lincoln said as he leaned against the small island in Clarke’s kitchen, studying his boss and good friend carefully. They were gathered in the studio apartment that in which Clarke lived. It also happened to be just above the tattoo shop. “I think Raven might be onto something here. What do you think, babe?”

 

Octavia looked up from the laptop she was hunched over as she sat on the couch, glasses perched on her nose. “What?” she asked distractedly.

 

“Clarke and Lexa,” Raven said, popping the top off of a Pabst beer. Clarke wrinkled her nose at her best friend’s terrible taste in beer as she took a swig of her own Two Hearted Ale.

 

“Right,” Octavia said. Having gone back to school to complete her degree in criminal justice, she was in the middle of midterms for her last semester. In less than three months, she’d be graduating and applying to the Polis Police Academy. She had a goal to make detective by the time she was thirty, which gave her six years. “Clarke and Lexa sitting in a tree, yada yada,” she said offhandedly as she waved her hand, then immediately turned her attention back to her laptop. She began typing at a furious pace.

 

“Rude,” Raven said, plopping down on the couch next to Octavia. Octavia sent her a quick glare, then resumed typing. Raven wasn’t at all fazed. “We invite you over for a home cooked meal and this is the thanks we get?” She placed a hand on her chest in a dramatic fashion.

 

“Hey, she’s dedicated,” Clarke defended, sipping from the glass bottle. “Also, you don’t even live here, and ‘home cooked’ is a stretch for take and bake pizza.”

 

Raven shrugged. “Whatever, it’s being cooked here, isn’t it? And stop trying to change the subject.” She pointed the neck of her bottle towards Clarke. “You and Lexa.”

 

Clarke sighed, knowing it was useless to try and avoid the topic again. She sat heavily on one of the barstools lining the island. “What about us?” she asked. “I’m touching up her tattoo.”

 

“On her back,” Raven said. “While she’s completely topless. And you’ve had a massive crush on her since you attended that rally for Marcus Kane last year and she gave that speech. You practically creamed your panties while she droned on about equitable education opportunities and tax cuts for the poor.”

 

Clarke scoffed. “First of all,” she said, holding up a finger, “gross.” She scrunched her nose at Raven’s crassness. “Secondly,” another finger joined the first, “I’m a professional. I’ve tattooed many women in way more intimate places than a lower back. Just last week I tattooed that woman’s labia. You can’t get much more intimate than that.”

 

Raven scoffed. “That chick wasn’t even a quarter as hot as Lexa. Right, Lincoln?”

 

Lincoln held his hands up in front of him. “I draw the line at determining the hotness of my cousin.” He put his hands down and narrowed his eyes at Clarke, taking in her nervous movements as she sat at the island. “However, don’t tell her I said anything because I’ll deny it to my dying breath, but I’m pretty certain she returns the crush,” he said. He sipped his own beer--Two-Hearted Ale; he had actual good taste in beer, unlike _some_ people. “And don’t try to deny it, Griff. You’ve got smitten written all over your face.”

 

Clarke swallowed. “What makes you say that?” she asked. “That she feels the same way, which I’m _not_ saying I do.”

 

Lincoln laughed. “You don’t need to say it,” he said. “You wear your emotions all over your face.” He circled the hand not holding his beer around his own face to stress his point. “While Raven’s choice words were, ah, a little too much information for me, I think she’s right. As for Lexa, just that she couldn’t stop talking about you when I had lunch with her yesterday. She kept raving about your work and how you rivaled Gus’ talent.”

 

“She said that?” Clarke was used to compliments about her work, but Lexa’s approval, for some reason, made her swell with pride.

 

Lincoln nodded. “She did,” he said. “And Lexa isn’t one to dish out a lot of compliments, so when she does, she means it.”

 

Clarke hummed. “That doesn’t mean she likes _me_ , though. She just admires my work.”

 

“So I should ignore that she asked if you were gay and single?” He grinned.

 

“Clarke and Lexa sitting in a tree!” Raven hollered from the couch, bouncing in her seat. Octavia shot her another glare.

 

“She did not,” Clarke said, ignoring Raven.

 

“She did,” Lincoln said.

 

“What did you say?” Clarke asked, scared for the answer.

 

“That she’d have to ask you,” he replied with a grin. “You’re welcome.”

 

“I don’t think I thanked you for anything,” Clarke said dryly.

 

“Oh, you will.”

  


∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  


Lexa was nervous. She never got nervous. Especially about getting a tattoo. Sure, they hurt, but nothing too bad. Even the original back tattoo hadn’t hurt that badly. She figured she had a high pain threshold. Even as a kid, it had taken a lot to make her cry in pain. She hadn’t been one to complain about a scraped knee or bloody nose. She hadn’t even cried when she’d broken her arm when she’d crashed her bike into the fence in their backyard when she’d been nine.

 

So she wasn’t nervous about pain.

 

And she wasn’t at all nervous that Clarke would mess up the work that meant to much to her. After seeing her work, she felt confident in the blonde’s abilities.

 

For all intents and purposes, shouldn’t be nervous about anything about this appointment. It was _just_ a touch up on her tatoo. And yet...

 

 _Stop it_ , she scolded herself as she took a deep breath and pulled open the door to Ink Drop Tattoo Gallery. She was fifteen minutes early for her appointment with the tattoo artist, but that wasn’t at all unusual for her. She was always at least ten, if not fifteen, minutes early to everything. The thought of being late to anything gave her crippling anxiety.

 

She found herself wondering if Clarke was an early, on time, or chronically late person…

 

 _Stop_. It didn’t matter.

 

“Lexa’s here!” a brunette—Raven, If Lexa remembered correctly—yelled out from her position behind the main counter, then shot Lexa a grin. “Hey hot stuff,” she said.

 

Lexa raised an eyebrow. “Hot stuff?” she repeated.

 

“Uh huh,” Raven said lazily. “Because Clarke can’t stop—”

 

“Thank you, Raven!” Clarke interjected as she suddenly appeared from the back. “She’s a little crazy sometimes,” she said to Lexa. Then she smiled that megawatt smile that made Lexa’s heart flutter.

 

Wait. What? Flutter? No way. Not her. That was gross.

 

(But flutter it did. Dammit.)

 

“Sure, hi,” Lexa greeted.

 

“Hi,” Clarke repeated. “I’m just finishing up with a client, so it’ll be a few minutes.” She looked nervous that she wasn’t quite ready, so Lexa waved her off.

 

“No worries,” Lexa said. “I’m early.”

 

Clarke gave her a relieved look. Until she realized that she’d be leaving Lexa with Raven. Clarke glared at the brunette behind the counter. She pointed a threatening finger at her. “Behave,” she warned, voice deep and sharp. Lexa barely contained her grin.

 

Raven gave a look of mock offense. “Me?” she asked with faux innocence. “I’m offended by your lack of trust, Griffin.”

 

Clarke didn’t respond to Raven. She just glared as she backed out of the room. She paused as she got to the doorway that led to the back rooms and nodded to Lexa. “Just yell if she gets to be too much,” she said. “Lincoln should be back soon, anyway.”

 

Lexa smiled. “I can handle her,” she said confidently.

 

“Uh, hello, I’m right here,” Raven said.

 

Clarke sighed. “I know,” she said. Then she was gone, closing the door to a private room behind her.

 

Lexa took a seat on the bright purple couch that lined the wall. The studio was actually very well-decorated, definitely not the gaudy or grungy feel that many tattoo places can have. The front room was clean and well-lit, framed photos of incredible tattoo designs, presumably done by the staff at the shop, lined the stark white walls. The floors were an ashy wood grain, and the furniture was clean, bright, and tasteful. Definitely a higher-end tattoo shop with some pretty amazing talent, so it was no wonder why they were voted number one in the field year after year.

 

“So, Clarkey says your tatt is the stuff of legends,” Raven said as she plopped into the armchair that was adjacent to the couch where Lexa sat.

 

Lexa gave her a raised eyebrow look. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said. “Though, I suppose a legend did create it.”

 

Raven nodded, a sad smile touching her lips. “Yeah, Gus was pretty great,” she said. “I regret never getting something done by him.”

 

Lexa tilted her head to the side as she studied Raven. “Do you have any tattoos? I don’t see any visible.” The brunette was even wearing a tank top that left her arms and shoulders bare. They were completely free of tattoos.

 

Raven laughed. “Only one,” she said. “But it’s a massive piece that took Clarke five or six sessions to complete. Something like twenty-six hours total.”

 

Lexa gave her a shocked look. “Seriously? That’s impressive.”

 

Raven grinned. “I don’t do things on a small scale,” she said.

 

Lexa chuckled. “I can tell. What is it? Where is it?”

 

Raven stood and lifted the hem of her shirt, baring her ribcage. Lexa immediately recognized the tattoo. “I saw that in Clarke’s portfolio,” she said, still in awe of the realistic look of the tattoo. It was the one made to look like the skin was being peeled back to reveal muscle, tendon, and bone. “It’s so incredible. A bit creepy but also beautiful.”

 

Raven grinned. “Thanks,” she said. “Clarke is a genius.”

 

Lexa nodded in agreement, then a thought occurred to her. Had she really stopped to think, she probably wouldn’t have said the next thing that came out of her mouth, but she didn’t think. “Wait, I thought Clarke said the client was an inspiring domestic abuse survivor who was using the tattoo to cover up old scars?”

 

Fuck.

 

Lexa realized what had just happened as soon as she finished the sentence. She watched in horror as Raven slowly lowered her shirt, lick her lips nervously, and swallow.

 

“Crap,” Lexa rushed out. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I could be mistaken.”

 

Raven shook her head and sighed. “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not, what the fuck is Clarke doing telling people that?”

 

“She never mentioned your name,” Lexa said. “I just made the connection when I saw your tattoo and didn’t think about it. Don’t be mad at her. If it helps, she said that you inspired her. I’m really sorry. I can tell you something deeply personal about me if you want?”

 

Raven let out a small laugh. “Calm down, Lexa,” she said. “I’m okay. Really. I’m not upset.”

 

“Really?” Lexa asked, still concerned.

 

Raven nodded and sat back down. “It’s old news anyway,” she said. “It’s actually how Clarke and I met Octavia. They both got me out of a bad situation. I owe them my life, to be honest.”

 

Lexa swallowed, wanting to ask more, but not feeling like she had the right to ask. So she stayed silent.

 

Raven shrugged after a few beats of silence. “Anyway, my point is that Clarke is the best of the best, and you’re in good hands with her.”

 

Lexa nodded. “I know,” she said. “I’m really sorry again. I don’t normally have a habit of speaking before I think.”

 

Raven laughed. “Stop worrying, Woods. I’m not fragile. Anymore, at least.” She let out a big sigh. “But it does mean that I have to have a huge conversation with Clarke about boundaries.”

 

“What was that, Rae?”

 

They both jumped in their seats, startled by the sudden voice. Clarke stood in the doorway, her client just behind her admiring her new tattoo.

 

“I’ll tell you later,” Raven said.

 

Clarke gave her a narrow-eyed look, but didn’t press. Instead, she settled up with her client and gave her the aftercare instructions before bidding her a good night. Of course, she couldn’t let Raven’s comment go. “Okay, Reyes,” she said, walking over to where they sat. “What was that about boundaries? You finally setting some for yourself?” She chuckled at her own joke, but neither Raven nor Lexa joined her. “What?” she asked, concerned. “Raven, what did you tell her?”

 

“Nothing,” Raven said. “It’s what you told Lexa.” She wasn’t mad, but she wasn’t happy either.

 

Clarke gave Lexa a ‘help me’ look. “What did I say?”

 

“The other day when you showed me your portfolio, you told me about the tattoo for the domestic abuse survivor,” Lexa said.

 

Clarke’s eyes flitted to Raven. “Yeah?”

 

“It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together when they see my tattoo,” Raven said.

 

Clarke swore under her breath as her heart dropped to her stomach. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Rae. I never thought she’d see it. I never used your name.”

 

Raven shrugged. “It’s whatever, but I do show my tattoo off to a lot of clients because it’s amazing and deserves to be seen. It just makes me wonder who else was able to do the math.”

 

Clarke looked horrified. “Fuck, I never realized that. I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore. The last thing I want is to cause you any more pain.”

 

“If it helps,” Lexa interjected. “She did stress how inspiring it was to her.”

 

Raven sighed. “Look, Clarke, I’m not mad, just… don’t do it anymore, okay? It’s not that I’m ashamed of my past, but it’s not something that I want the whole world to know, okay?”

 

Clarke nodded aggressively. “I swear,” she said. “And I promise I’ll make it up to you. Anything you want. Within reason.”

 

Raven grinned. “Anything?”

 

Clarke grimaced. “Within reason,” she stressed.

 

“I get to tell Lexa something deeply personal about you, _anything_ I decide.”

 

Fuck. Clarke groaned. “Why do you hate me?”

 

“Payback is a bitch,” Raven said. “What do you say, Griffin?”

 

Lexa watched from her position on the couch, highly amused. Their friendship really did mirror her own with Anya. Blackmailing her like this is totally something Anya would do. Lexa wondered if Raven was single and into strong women… Women like Anya…

 

“Can’t I just buy you dinner or something?”

 

“Pfft,” Raven scoffed. “No way. This is my choice.”

 

Clarke huffed. “One. Thing. But I get to pre-approve it.”

 

“Fuck no!” Raven shouted. “I get to tell her right here and now.”

 

“I’d kind of like to hear what she has to say,” Lexa cut in, intrigued. She gave Clarke a wide smile.

 

Clarke groaned. “Fine,” she said. “I do owe you, I suppose. Just, please don’t make it too humiliating.” Like, please for the love of GOD don’t tell Lexa about the time she’d gotten so drunk a few years ago that not only had she vomited all over the backseat of an Uber, but she’d then proceeded to pull her pants down and pee in an alley and had nearly been arrested for public urination. She was never, _ever_ drinking gin again. That was definitely her most embarrassing story.

 

“So,” Raven said and Clarke held her breath. “Clarke has literally the most extensive collection of sex toys that I’ve ever seen. Like, we’re talking two boxes under her bed full to the brim extensive.”

 

Fucking hell. Of course Raven would find something even _more_ embarrassing than projectile vomit and public urination to share.

 

“Raven!” Clarke gasped. She felt herself sway on her feet. She felt herself turned beet red as she stood there in shock and willed the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She was going to fucking _murder_ Raven.

 

Lexa blinked as she stared at Raven.

 

“Oh,” Lexa said. “Well, that’s…” she trailed off and looked at Clarke. It almost pained her to see the embarrassment on the blonde’s face. So she shrugged. “Who doesn’t?” Sure, she didn’t have _two boxes full_ \--seriously? _Two_ boxes?!-- but she had her own small collection. Hey, she’d been single for nearly two years, after all.

 

Raven gawked at Lexa’s calm response. “That’s it? That’s all I get?” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I give up.” She stalked off towards the main counter and resumed flipping through a magazine, muttering about ‘sex-crazed idiots.’

 

Clarke continued to stare down at the floor, unable to look Lexa in the eye. What the hell had just happened? How was she supposed to concentrate now? Lexa was probably going to make some excuse and bail now. Great. Just freaking great.

 

“You ready for me?”

 

Wait. What?

 

Clarke looked up, noting the completely neutral expression on Lexa’s face. As if she hadn’t just been told about all the dildos and vibrators beneath Clarke’s bed. (In her defense, she only used a few of them regularly; the rest had been purchased during late night online explorations that had been fueled by wine and sexual frustration.) “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m all ready for you in the same room as before.” She cleared her throat to keep it from cracking. “Do you, ah, want something to drink or need to pee or anything before we get started?”

 

Lexa shook her head. “I’m good,” she said.

 

“Great!” Clarke said a little too enthusiastically. “Um, just follow me,” she said as she turned to make her way towards the back. Lexa followed, taking a moment to study Clarke from behind. She wore another pair of black skinny jeans tucked into a pair of boots and a plain grey scoop-neck T-shirt that was perhaps a size too small for her ample chest, but Lexa definitely was not complaining.

 

 _Kill me now,_ Lexa thought to herself when Clarke indicated for her to enter the room first and Lexa got an up-close glimpse of that cleavage.

 

“Okay, go ahead and have a seat,” Clarke said awkwardly as she stood in the doorway. “I just need the bathroom real quick. Be right back.” And then she was gone before Lexa could reassure her that it really was okay.  

 

Clarke returned about five minutes later, seeming a bit more composed. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. “So, did you think more about having color added or do you want to keep it as is?” she asked as she began pulling out equipment. They’d discussed several options the other evening and that was one of them. Lexa had said she’d needed to think about it.

 

“No color,” Lexa said.

 

Clarke nodded. “I think that’s a good choice,” she said. “We already discussed the touch up process. Do you have any questions or need me to go over anything again?”

 

Lexa shook her head. “I trust you,” she said. And she did. With her skin, at least.

 

“Okay, good,” Clarke said. “So, just, you know, take off your shirt and we can get started getting that magnificent back back to how it should be.”

 

Lexa nodded. She could do this. She was just a client and Clarke was just a tattoo artist. It was all completely professional. She reached for the buttons on her shirt and carefully undid them. As she did so, she noticed Clarke respectfully avert her eyes and busy herself with getting her tools set up.

 

“Where should I situate myself?” Lexa asked as she shucked off her shirt and draped it over the back of a chair.

 

“On here,” Clarke said, indicating an odd-looking chair, similar to the ones you saw in the mall at the massage kiosks. “Facing the back. Uh, straddle this part.” She patted the cushioned seat. Lexa did so and was grateful that it was actually quite comfortable. Much better than if she’d been laying on her stomach. This position didn’t put any stress on her lower back or shoulders. “Comfortable?” Clarke asked after Lexa got herself situated.

 

“Yes,” Lexa said.

 

“Good,” Clarke said. “Can you move your hair over your shoulder?”

 

Lexa nodded and did just that, leaving her back bare except for the band and straps of her dark blue bra. “Anything else?” When Clarke didn’t immediately answer, she glanced over her shoulder to see Clarke gnawing her lower lip and looking contemplative. “Clarke?”

 

Clarke blinked and pulled herself out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I was just,” she started, then shook her head. “I hate to ask, but it would really work best if the, uh, band of your bra wasn’t there,” she said, cheeks reddening. Lexa had to believe that Clarke wasn’t new to having topless girls in her tattoo chair, so why was she blushing? “I’ll need to see the entire tattoo to know if the touch up matches the unfaded part.”

 

Lexa swallowed, but nodded. It made sense. She’d actually already prepared for it. Of course her back would need to be completely bare. “No problem,” she said. She reached back and undid her bra, allowing the straps to fall down her arms, but not letting the garment fall completely off. She could at least pretend she wasn’t completely topless in the presence of one of the sexiest women she’d ever met.

 

“Perfect,” Clarke said, voice husky.

 

Jesus, that voice! Lexa found herself wondering what that voice sounded like when she was aroused. Did it get even deeper and more sultry?

 

Stop it!

 

Lexa closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on nothing but the fact that her tattoo was getting touched up. Something she desperately wanted. She needed to get it together. Fast.

  
  
  


Clarke was struggling. She never struggled. Not when it came to clients.

 

 _She’s just a client_ , she repeated again and again in her head as she pulled on a pair of black nitrile gloves. She was able to focus on that mantra as she finished preparing her equipment and as she got to work. Soon, she was able to block out everything except the art.

 

God, she loved this job.

 

“Doing okay?” Clarke asked after about half an hour had passed as she wiped away excess ink and blood to examine her work.

 

“I’m good,” Lexa said. “I admit it’s a bit more painful than I remembered it being.”

 

“That’s because Gus was a magician when it came to lessening the pain,” Clarke said. “I’m good, but he was a fucking wizard.”

 

Lexa laughed. “Oh yeah?”

 

Clarke hummed as she returned the needle back to Lexa’s skin. She was surprised with how still Lexa managed to be even with the pain she was surely feeling. “Yeah,” Clarke said. She worked on shading in one of the smaller circles that adorned Lexa’s back. “So, do you mind if I ask more about the meaning of this tattoo?”

 

Lexa hesitated.

 

“It’s okay if not,” Clarke said. “I was just curious. It’s obvious it has great meaning to you. And I get the feeling it’s more than that it was Gus’ work.”

 

Lexa sighed. “You’re right,” she said, voice tight from either physical pain or emotional pain (or both). “There’s definitely meaning behind it.”

 

“Seven circles,” Clarke said.

 

“Seven foster homes,” Lexa said. “From the time I was twelve until I turned eighteen.”

 

Clarke lifted the needle and looked up at Lexa. Well, she looked up at the back of her head, at least. “Must have sucked.”

 

Lexa gave a small shrug. “It was what it was,” she said. “Most of them were okay. Not great, but not bad.”

 

“And the others?” Clarke asked.

 

Lexa was silent for a moment, then gave a small shudder. “Something I’d rather forget.”

 

Clarke understood and dropped the subject. She returned to Lexa’s tattoo and continued shading. “I know I was lucky,” she said offhandedly. “I had a pretty stable childhood. Lived in the same house from the time I was born until I left for college.”

 

“You went to college?” Lexa asked, then immediately cringed at herself. God, that sounded so pretentious. She wasn’t someone who thought she was better than someone else because she had a two degrees.

 

Luckily, Clarke just laughed it off. “Yeah, for a few years. I was on track to be a doctor, like my mom.”

 

“What happened to that plan?” Lexa asked, curious as to how a future doctor became a tattoo artist.

 

Clarke hummed. “This place happened,” she said. “I got a part time job here to make some extra cash. My mom would have given me an allowance but I was set on being semi-independent. I was just supposed to do some clerical work a few times a week and do the orders and whatnot. But when the guy who owned the place caught me doodling one day, he took me on as an apprentice. Believe it or not, I was a tattoo virgin back then. It wasn’t until I started that apprenticeship that I got my first work done.”

 

“What was it?” Lexa asked.

 

Clarke paused for a moment, then hummed. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

 

“What? Do you have a like a cheesy quote or something?” Lexa asked. “‘Live, laugh, love,’” she guessed.

 

Clarke snorted. “Fuck no,” she said. “Nothing so contrived as that. It’s a Gryffindor tattoo.”

 

“Like from Harry Potter?”

 

Clarke nodded. “Yep,” she said.

 

Lexa turned her head to try and look back at Clarke. “I feel like there’s a story to that one,” she said. But she didn’t laugh, so Clarke took that as a positive sign.

 

Clarke turned off the tattoo machine and set it down. It needed to be refilled anyway. “There is,” she said. “But I don’t know you well enough to talk about it.”

 

Lexa took the hint and nodded. “I get it. Can I see it at least?”

 

Clarke stood and grinned. “Well, see, the thing is, I had to get it in a place where my mom wouldn’t see it. This was before she knew about my new obsession, you see.”

 

Lexa quirked an eyebrow. “Is that code for it’s on your ass or something?”

 

Clarke laughed and pulled off her gloves, tossing them into the trash can. “No, not my ass. It’s here.” She placed her hand against her left hip, right where her thigh met her torso.

 

“Oh,” Lexa said, cheeks flushing. “That, uh, must have hurt.”

 

Clarke shrugged. “No more than a spine tattoo.”

 

Lexa grinned. “Touchè.” She rolled her shoulders, holding her bra, which was still dangling from her arms, to her chest. “I’m getting stiff. Can we take a short break?”

 

Clarke nodded. “Sure. Want something to drink now?”

 

Lexa nodded. “Water, please.”

 

Clarke nodded and made her way to the small mini fridge they kept in the room for just this purpose and pulled out two bottles of water. Lexa stood and, one arm holding her bra to her chest, accepted the bottle Clarke held out to her. “Thanks,” she muttered.

 

Clarke nodded, trying hard to not stare at the sight of a half naked Lexa. Jesus, this woman’s abs were _ridiculous_. “So, um, did you still want to see the tattoo?” She grinned.

 

Lexa choked on her water, coughing slightly. “Oh, uh, sure,” she said. “If you’re comfortable showing me.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. And she had to admit, she was curious what a Gryffindor tattoo even looked like.

 

Clarke set her water on the counter and undid the button on her jeans. She pulled the zipper down and Lexa nearly choked again (this time on her own tongue) when she saw a peek of black lace panties. And then more because Clarke was tugging the jeans down until they sat low on her hips. Fuck. She was pretty sure the black lace was a thong. God help her.

 

Then Clarke tugged the black lace band down and revealed the mid-sized, intricate tattoo in red and gold. Yep, that was definitely a Gryffindor tattoo. And, yep, it was definitely in a rather intimate place. Lexa couldn’t help but notice that it was achingly close to Clarke’s—

 

“So?” Clarke’s voice interrupted her dangerous thought. “What do you think?”

 

“It’s, ah, interesting,” Lexa said. “It’s killing me to know the significance.” She gave Clarke a smile to show she was teasing.

 

Clarke smiled back and pulled her jeans back up, redoing the fastenings. Lexa let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” Clarke said. “You ready to continue? I should be done in about half an hour.”

 

Lexa nodded and returned to the chair. She settled in and a comfortable silence fell between them as Clarke resumed her work. They were each lost in their own thoughts. All Lexa could think about was Raven’s confession about Clarke from earlier. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Wisely, she waited until Clarke was refilling the ink and not pressing a needle into her skin.

 

“So, when Raven said two boxes, how big are we talking?”

 

Clarke paused in her task, cursing under her breath. “Look, I really like sex, okay?” she said after a moment. She resumed her position on her stool behind Lexa. “And I’m not ashamed of my sexual appetite.”

 

“Nor should you be,” Lexa said, voice unsteady as Clarke hit a particularly sensitive area on her back. But she managed to stay still. “But I’m still curious as to how big these boxes are. We talking shoe boxes or storage crates?”

 

Clarke paused in her movement, lifting the tattoo machine to glance up at Lexa. Or, the back of her head, at least. “How would storage bins fit under my bed?” she asked.

 

Lexa huffed. “Well, I don’t know how high your bed is!”

 

Clarke barely refrained from asking if Lexa wanted to find out. Instead, she continued her work. “Bigger than shoe boxes, but smaller than freaking storage bins. Like, you know those storage cube things? About that size.”

 

Lexa hummed in acknowledgement. “Got it,” she said. “For the record, I don’t see any problem with that. A girl has needs.”

Clarke grinned. “You’re very right,” she said.

 

After several beats, Lexa swallowed and turned her head to look back at Clarke. “I really like sex, too.”

 

Clarke nearly screwed up Lexa’s entire tattoo at those words. She cursed and wiped away ink and blood, relieved beyond belief when she saw that no damage had been done. “Jesus Christ, okay, new rule: you can’t say things like that when I have a needle against your skin, okay?”

 

Lexa just smiled and returned to her face-forward position. She decided to not say anything else at all, not wanting to tempt fate with her tattoo. Instead, she imagined just what types of toys filled those boxes under Clarke’s bed.

 

She was so lost in her thoughts that it actually surprised Lexa when Clarke gave a final swipe of the sterile towel and turned off the machine. “There we go,” Clarke said, leaning back to study her work. “It’s a little darker than the original stuff up top, but that’s because the touch up should fade to match in the next several days as it heals.”

 

Lexa nodded. “Got it,” she said. “Can I see it?”

 

Clarke nodded and stood. She disposed of the second pair of gloves and indicated for Lexa to follow her to the full length mirror against the wall. She handed her a smaller handheld mirror so she could see her back.

 

“Wow,” Lexa said. “It looks just like the original.”

 

Clarke smiled. “I mean, Gus did all the hard parts. I just followed his design.”

 

Lexa nodded, pleased. “Thank you, Clarke,” she said, handing the mirror back to the blonde. Then she realized something. “Shit.”

 

“What?” Clarke asked, worried.

 

“Oh, I, ah, just forgot about the whole I’m not going to be able to wear a bra for a while thing,” she explained. “I only have the incredibly light blouse I wore to work today. And it’s kind of cold in here.”

 

Clarke grinned and leaned back against the counter. “Oh? Is there a problem?”

 

Lexa glared at her. “Clarke,” she scolded, but there was a look in her eye that told Clarke she wasn’t serious.

 

Clarke chuckled. “Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. She thought for a moment, then bit her lower lip before offering a suggestion. “I can lend you something thicker to wear.”

 

Lexa raised an eyebrow. “How? You keep a wardrobe in the shop?”

 

Clarke laughed again. “No, but I do upstairs. I live in the apartment above the shop. It was a part of the deal I got for this place. There’s a private entrance from the back of the shop so you wouldn’t have to go outside and risk poking someone’s eye out.”

 

“Clarke!” Lexa cried out, but she laughed.

 

Clarke shrugged. “Or you can brave the teasing comments from Raven and the others. Trust me, they won’t be willing to let it go.”

 

Lexa sighed. She knew it would be dangerous to go upstairs with Clarke. She knew that agreeing would pretty much lead to them having sex. She _knew_ that, and she knew that Clarke knew that. And she knew that it was a bad idea because she hardly knew Clarke and yet she already felt drawn to her. And she wasn’t looking for any type or relationship right now, casual or serious. She _knew_ all of that.

 

Yet she agreed anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

 

So that’s how Clarke and Lexa ended up alone in Clarke’s apartment above the shop. Clarke was suddenly glad she didn’t have any roommates. It was only a studio apartment anyway. Though Clarke had opted to use large room dividing screens to separate the sleeping area from the living room. The tall, wood-framed dividers were ornate in a tasteful way, cherry blossom patterns decorating the cream-colored, paper-thin screens.

 

“Here,” Clarke said, handing Lexa a loose flannel button down shirt that was much thicker than the blouse she’d been wearing earlier. “You like flannel, I assume.” She grinned.

 

Lexa rolled her eyes and accepted the shirt. “It just so happens I do,” she said. “As do you, obviously.” She held up the black and white flannel garment.

 

Clarke leaned against the kitchen island. “Are you asking if I’m gay?”

 

Lexa’s eyes widened. “What? No!”

 

“Because I’m not,” Clarke said.

 

Lexa felt her heart drop to her stomach. Shit. How had she misread Clarke this entire time? She would have sworn Clarke was flirting with her. “Oh,” she said, dejected. She offered Clarke a stiff smile. “Um, I’ll just go change.”

 

“I’m bi,” Clarke quickly said before Lexa could retreat into the bathroom. “So, not gay, but definitely not straight, either.” She moved forward as she spoke until she was right in front of Lexa.

 

Lexa stood rooted to the spot, flannel clutched in her hand. “Oh,” she said again. “Okay. Good.”

 

Clarke quirked an eyebrow. “Why is it good?” she asked with a grin. They were even closer now, faces only a few inches apart.

 

Confident once again that the blonde was feeling the same attraction, Lexa licked her lips and leaned in even more. “Uh, because it would be really awkward if you were straight and I did this.” Then she kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for stopping it there. (Am I, though?) Stay tuned for the final chapter coming (ahem) soon! :) 
> 
> Also, I will be going into more about Raven's story in the final chapter. As usual, this is something that hits close to home with me (not a personal story, but one of a close friend), so please be kind!


	3. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. More smut. Then _feelings_. The fluff is real at the end. Like, tooth-rotting fluff. You've been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always incredibly nervous about smut scenes. This is no exception.

Clarke immediately responded to Lexa’s kiss, eyes closing as she brought her hands up to tunnel through Lexa’s incredibly soft hair. Lips parted and within seconds, their tongues met and Clarke forgot all about everything except the feel of Lexa’s lips on her, of their upper bodies aligning  _ just  _ right. Jesus, this woman could kiss. Clarke felt arousal spike in her core, which was saying something with the way her panties had been soaked for the better part of the evening. Pretty much since Lexa had walked in the door of the shop earlier. She’d been fearful that Lexa would be able to smell the heady scent of her arousal when she’d given her an impromptu show of her hip tattoo earlier. 

 

Lexa groaned into the kiss, her every thought of why she shouldn’t be doing this falling from her head at the feel of Clarke’s lips on her own. She felt herself being guided backwards towards the wall. Then Clarke was pressing her against it. Ouch. “Fuck,” she hissed out in pain.

 

Clarke immediately pulled back, concerned. That’s when she remembered. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” she hurried out, pulling Lexa away from the wall where her newly tattooed back had been pressed. 

 

“S’okay,” Lexa said. Now that she wasn’t pressed against the wall, there was no more than the dull pain was  expected that she’d feel anyway. She pressed her lips back to Clarke’s and kissed her again. 

 

Clarke leaned into the kiss once more, but a thought occurred to her. “That bandage needs to come off before it scabs over,” she said against Lexa’s lips. She’d placed a temporary bandage over the tattoo to keep Lexa’s shirt from getting bloodied up, but it needed to be taken off as soon as possible to allow for proper healing. 

 

Lexa hummed. “Oh yeah?” she asked. Her own hands reached up to start to unbutton her shirt. “Wanna help me with that?” Lexa watched as Clarke’s pupils dilated even more, nearly eclipsing the entirety of her blue irises. 

 

“You have no idea,” Clarke said, reaching up to help Lexa push the thin material down her arms to flutter to the ground. She grinned at the sight before her. “You weren’t kidding about the cold,” she teased as she took in the sight of Lexa’s pebbled nipples. She brought one hand up and cupped a small but perfect breast, her thumb brushing over the hard peak. 

 

Lexa gasped. “Fuck,” she shuddered. “It’s not just from the cold now,” she informed Clarke. What she didn’t say was that it had never  _ really _ been from the cold. 

 

Clarke grinned again. “Oh, no? What then?”

 

Lexa pressed her hand against Clarke’s where it covered her breast. “It’s you,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Now, can you help me with the bandage so I can fuck you?” She turned before Clarke, presenting her back. She pulled her hair over her shoulder. 

 

Clarke swore beneath her breath as she made quick, but careful work of the bandage. There was some blood, but no more than to be expected. She nodded in approval and disposed of the bandage. “Who says you’re going to fuck me?” she said, gripping Lexa’s bared waist as she stood behind her, fingers splayed. She buried her face in the base of Lexa’s neck, pressing her lips against the corded muscle and soft skin. “Who says I won’t be the one fucking you?”

 

Lexa gasped at the feel of Clarke’s hands on her waist and her lips on her skin. Focus, she told herself. “Because,” she started, pausing to hum as Clarke’s hands began to slide upwards. “There’s no way for you to top me.”

 

Clarke chuckled. “Oh no?” she asked, intrigued. “And what makes you think that?” She was a top. Normally. Not that she wasn’t opposed to letting go of control from time to time, but that was rare and only when she completely trusted her partner. Given her sexual track record, there was no way she should be considering giving up control to Lexa given that, for all intents and purposes, they hardly knew one another. 

 

Yet the very idea of Lexa pinning her down on her bed and taking complete control only made her already damp panties completely drenched in anticipation. 

 

Lexa turned in front of Clarke, gripping the bottom of her shirt and tugging it upwards. Without thought, Clarke lifted her arms and allowed Lexa to pull it off. Then her hands were reaching around Clarke and undoing her bra before Clarke even realized what was happening. Damn. How had she even done that? The black lace garment fell to her elbows, revealing her ample breasts to the cool air of the apartment. (It was cool, but it definitely  _ wasn’t _ the air making her nipples pebble so hard that they almost hurt.) 

 

“Because,” Lexa said slowly, turning them so that Clarke’s back was now the one against the wall, her hand coming up to curve around Clarke’s breast. Clarke inhaled shakily. “I can’t not lay back against the mattress right now,” she continued.

 

Clarke scoffed. “As if that has any real meaning,” she said. “There are ways to be submissive while being physically on top,” she pointed out. 

 

Lexa hummed in acknowledgement as she stepped forward, bringing their bare stomachs and breasts together. “True,” she said. “However,” she gripped Clarke’s wrists in her hands and pinned them to the wall above her head. Clarke hissed in a mixture of surprise and shocking desire. Fuck. “I think you  _ want _ me to take control.” 

 

Clarke gulped at Lexa’s words. Her brain yelled at her to deny Lexa’s suggestion. But everything else—her heart, her body, her aching  _ pussy _ —yelled at her to give in. 

 

Lexa noted her hesitation and took a small step back, not wanting to push the blonde or do anything that could be considered coercion. She was all about taking control when the situation warranted, but she was also all about consent. “Clarke?” she whispered. 

 

Clarke licked her lips and met Lexa’s eyes. “I don’t normally…” She trailed off, her brain still making a convincing argument. But goddamn, her body was quickly winning this argument. Particularly when her pussy got involved. 

 

Lexa nodded in understanding. “Do you trust me?”

 

Clarke bit her bottom lip. She hardly knew this woman. But she found herself nodding. “Yes.” 

 

Lexa let go of Clarke’s hands and stepped back. She held out a hand and without thought, Clarke took it. Then she was being led through the living area towards the room dividers. Then she was being pressed back against the mattress of her unmade bed (what was even the point of making your bed?) and Lexa was kissing her again. Deep, tongue thrusting kisses that made her bones shake and knees weak. Seriously, if she’d been standing, her knees would have definitely given out. 

 

“Still trust me?” Lexa asked when they finally parted, breathing harsh. 

 

Clarke nodded, fully willing to give up control. She needed this. Badly. “Yes,” she said, voice husky with her arousal and need. “Yes, Lexa, fuck me.”

 

Lexa grinned down at the tattoo artist, recognizing her full consent. She kissed her against, fully pressing her body to Clarke’s. Clarke moaned into the kiss, holding Lexa impossibly close to her while also making sure to avoid touching her lower back. Instead, she gripped her hips and parted her own thighs, pulling the slightly leaner woman against her center. She gasped when Lexa immediately began to grind her hips against her, causing the seam of her jeans to press against her clit. 

 

“Fuck,” Clarke gasped, throwing her head back against the mattress. Lexa attached her lips to Clarke’s neck and bit softly, earning another groan from Clarke. “Lexa, I really need you to not tease right now,” she said. 

 

Lexa chuckled against Clarke’s neck. “But it’s so fun,” she quipped. She moved her lips along Clarke’s collarbone, nipping and licking a wet path that had Clarke squirming in anticipation. “This is amazing,” Lexa said, her lips trailing between Clarke’s breasts and along the intricate sternum tattoo that started between her breasts and curves below both supple mounds. 

 

Clarke gasped and arched her back. “Echo’s work,” she informed. Echo was one of the tattoo artists that rented space at her studio, and another of Gus’ protégés.

 

Lexa hummed in response, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she closed her lips around one of Clarke’s nipples and sucked hard. 

 

Clarke’s hips immediately jerked upwards, a string of expletives falling from her lips as the intense pleasure-pain. How did Lexa even  _ do _ that?! 

 

As she sucked and teased, Lexa’s hand moved swiftly down to work at the fastenings of Clarke’s jeans. Clarke helped, lifting her hips as Lexa pushed them down her thighs. Off. She needed the damn things off. Now. Clarke kicked the material away, glad she’d taken off her boots and socks as soon as they’d entered the apartment. Finally, she managed to kick the denim to the floor and she was left in just her black lace thong. 

 

She wasn’t typically a thong-wearer, except when she was hoping to get lucky or was wearing a pair of pants or a dress that showed pantylines. When she’d put them on earlier, she’d told herself it was because the jeans she’d picked out to wear were a thinner denim and prone to showing lines. (She was lying to herself, of course.) But now, she was glad she’d convinced herself of their necessity, because Lexa’s gasp of pleasure when she cupped the bare cheeks of Clarke’s ass was freaking music to her sex-starved ears. 

 

Totally worth the slight discomfort. 

 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Lexa groaned out as she trailed her fingers along the thin material between Clarke’s buttcheeks. “You always wear these or were you hoping something would happen here?” She grinned down at Clarke to show that she was teasing. 

 

Clarke felt her cheeks turn red and was grateful for the dim lighting that hid the flush. She gave Lexa a sly smile. “You’ll never know,” she said. 

 

Lexa didn’t respond, taking that for the admission that it was. She moved up onto her knees, straddling Clarke’s hips as she flattened her hands on Clarke’s lower abdomen. Her fingertips played with the lacy edge of the thong. “These have to go,” she said, dipping beneath the delicate fabric. She briefly considered trying to rip them off Clarke in a show of dominance, but two things stopped her. First, she didn’t know how attached to her sexy underwear Clarke was. And second, she’d probably only succeed in ripping a hole in the lace as opposed to tearing them completely off, or just fail altogether. So she tugged the fabric down instead. 

 

Clarke lifted her hips, eager to be rid of the material. Lexa moved completely off of her to dispose of the panties, leaving Clarke completely naked on the bed. Lexa held up the thong, allowing the fabric to dangle off her index finger. “I can smell your arousal from here,” she murmured. She let the lace fall to the wood floor beside the bed. 

 

The look in her eyes told Clarke that it was a huge turn on, so she decided to up the ante. She shifted on the bed and spread her legs. She shot Lexa a sultry look. “I’ve been soaked since you walked in tonight,” she admitted. She slithered her own hand down her torso and dipped her fingers between the smooth, hairless lips of her pussy. She delighted in the way that Lexa’s eyes zeroed in on her fingers, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “And Monday night, too. I had to come up here and relieve some tension after you left that night.” She swiped her finger over her clit, inhaling sharply at the shock of pleasure that shot through her. She was about to push her fingers inside herself when Lexa reached out and gripped her wrist, stilling her movements. 

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lexa said, tugging her hand away from between her legs. “No touching. That’s my job.” Then she brought Clarke’s fingers up to her lips, and Clarke nearly passed out when Lexa took them into her mouth, sucking the taste of Clarke from her own digits. “Fuck, you taste amazing,” Lexa murmured. 

 

“I want to taste you, too,” Clarke groaned. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to bury her face between Lexa’s trim thighs and make her cum in her mouth. She reached out to tug at the fastenings of Lexa’s pants, but Lexa stopped her.

 

“Later,” Lexa said. She moved to reposition herself between Clarke’s thighs. Clarke was about to protest, but was instantly silenced by Lexa’s mouth on her incredibly wet pussy. 

 

“Fuck,” Clarke gasped out, spreading her legs as wide as she could in an effort to give Lexa more room. Her eyes squeezed shut as Lexa did amazing things to her with her mouth, things that Clarke had never experienced before. Sure, others had gone down on her, but no one had seemed to completely  _ devour  _ her before. Not like this. 

 

Lexa rarely did things half-assed, and eating a girl out was no exception. She wrapped her arms around Clarke’s thighs and pressed her tongue as far into Clarke as she could, reveling in the sound of Clarke’s gasps of pleasure. She licked a broad trail from Clarke’s opening to the top of her slit, carefully avoiding her clit. 

 

“Lexa, I swear to god if you don’t stop teasing me,” Clarke groaned out. 

 

“You’ll what?” Lexa asked, looking up at Clarke with a sly grin on her face. 

 

Clarke cursed at the image before her, Lexa looking up at her from between her legs, that goddamn smug grin on her face even as Clarke’s juices coated her lips and chin. Then, while still maintaining eye contact, the lawyer stuck her tongue out and touched the tip to Clarke’s clit, licking it slowly. Torturously. 

 

Then it was gone. Clarke groaned in frustration. “Lexa,” she groaned out. 

 

“Or you’ll what?” Lexa repeated. 

 

Clarke huffed. “I don’t know, but it won’t be pretty,” she threatened. “Just, please fuck me.”

 

Finally,  _ finally _ , Lexa gave in, but only because teasing Clarke was torturing her as well. She let go of one of Clarke’s thighs as she dove back in, attaching her lips to Clarke’s clit as she slid first one, then two fingers inside her. She moved them in and out in a steady, quick pace as she focused on what made Clarke cry out in pleasure. She discovered that she like a flicking motion of her tongue against her clit the most over any type of circular pattern, and she appreciated three fingers inside her, driving deep and hard, curling slightly to press against that sweet spot on the front of her walls with each thrust. 

 

Clarke fisted her hands in the sheets beneath her, suddenly wishing she had a slotted headboard that she could grip onto. The sheets would have to do for now as she was driven closer and closer to her rapidly approaching orgasm. “Harder,” she begged, planting her feet on the mattress in attempt to thrust her hips harder against Lexa’s hand. 

 

Lexa placed her free hand on Clarke’s abdomen in an attempt to keep her still as she did as requested and thrust her fingers even harder into Clarke. She knew the blonde was likely to feel sore for days to come, but she was more than happy to oblige her request. She focused again on her clit, pressing her tongue harder and faster to the swollen nerve endings. 

 

Clarke cried out as she felt her orgasm begin to overtake her body, her every muscle tensing as wave after wave of pleasure began to roll over her. “Fuck, Lexa, yes!” she sobbed out. “I’m cumming, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.” Then she was letting out a long, low, downright  _ obscene _ moan as her thighs shook uncontrollably from the power of her orgasm. 

 

Lexa kept up her ministrations all though Clarke’s orgams, never letting up the thrusting of her fingers (just slowing down a bit because of how tightly Clarke’s walls gripped onto them) or the movements of her tongue on her clit. By the time Clarke was coming down from her orgasm, she was being hurled towards a second one. 

 

“Fuck,” Clarke gasped as she felt the tingling begin again before they even fully subsided. She’d never had a problem making herself cum twice in a row, but no one else had ever managed to do so. Should she even be surprised that Lexa was about to do so the first time she ever even touched her? (Answer: she definitely wasn’t surprised.) 

 

Soon, Clarke was fighting to catch her breath, her lungs screaming as if she’d run a marathon, and Lexa was giving her that goddamn smug grin as she rested her chin on Clarke’s still twitching lower abdomen.

 

“I can’t even be mad that you have that stupid smug look on your face,” Clarke panted out. 

 

Lexa let out a laugh and wiped her mouth against the skin of Clarke’s stomach, leaving a trail of Clarke’s arousal and Lexa’s saliva. Clarke couldn’t bring herself to care. All she cared about was making Lexa cum just as hard as she had. “Take your pants off,” Clarke ordered. “It’s my turn.”

 

Lexa stood and slowly undid the button and zip on her trousers. “And how are you going to manage to do that when you can barely move from the amazing orgasms I just gave you and I can’t lay on my back?” The pants dropped to her ankles leaving her in just a pair of dark blue boy short panties. She stood there with her hands on her hips as she awaited Clarke’s answer. 

 

Clarke shot her a grin. “You’re going to sit on my face,” Clarke quipped. Then she wiggled her index finger in the classic ‘come here’ motion and Lexa nearly swooned. She quickly pushed her panties down and crawled up on the bed. “You’ve done this before, right?” she asked Clarke as she moved to straddle her face. She knew this position could be intimidating the first time. 

 

“Nope,” Clarke said, grabbing her hips. “But I’m a fast learner.” Then she was gripping Lexa’s asscheeks and tugging her down as she lifted her head up to make contact with Lexa’s drenched pussy. Unlike Clarke, Lexa wasn’t completely hairless, but did get regular bikini waxes and trimmed the rest. Clarke giggled when a bit of the trimmed hair tickled her nose, the act ending slight vibrations through Lexa’s clit. 

 

Lexa gasped and leaned forward, flattening her cheek against the wall as she focused on not suffocating Clarke. She was rarely able to cum in this position, but she didn’t think it was going to be difficult this time. She was so turned on by making Clarke cum, tasting her arousal and hearing her cries of ultimate pleasure, that she was on the verge before she’d even taken off her pants. Now, she moved her hips slightly to aide in Clarke’s efforts as she felt herself approaching her orgasm quicker than she ever had before without the aid of a vibrator. 

 

No, it didn’t take long at all before she was gasping and letting out her own moans of intense pleasure and tensing above Clarke. 

 

Clarke gripped Lexa’s ass as she felt the woman above her cum against her mouth, a wave of fresh fluid coating her lips, tongue, and chin. She licked it all up, delighting in the almost spicy-sweet taste of Lexa on her tongue. She wanted to keep going and make her cum again, but Lexa was too weak to keep herself upright, so she encouraged her to move back so that she straddled her waist instead, then she fell against Clarke, completely spent. 

 

Clarke wrapped her arms carefully around the woman on top of her, making sure to not touch the part of the tattoo that she’d just touched up. 

 

“I can’t move,” Lexa groaned out a few moments later. “You paralyzed me.” 

 

Clarke let out a deep laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. 

 

“Definite compliment,” Lexa murmured, lips nuzzling Clarke’s neck. “Two thumbs up. Five stars. All that jazz.” 

 

Clarke hummed, fingers tracing along Lexa’s shoulder blades. “That was so much better than I imagined the other night,” she said. 

 

“When you came up here and touched yourself after I left?”

 

“Uh, huh,” Clarke said. “I came really hard that night, but not even close to how hard you just made me cum. Twice.”

 

Lexa grinned into her neck. “I touched myself, too, that night,” she admitted. “I imagined fucking you with my fingers and mouth like I did just now. But you’re right, the reality was so much better.” 

 

Clarke tunneled her fingers into Lexa’s hair, suddenly feeling vulnerable as she considered her next words. “Good enough to repeat?” she asked, voice softer than before. 

 

Lexa lifted her head to look down at Clarke, noting her uncertainty. She smiled. “Only if you feed me first,” she said. 

 

“Feed you… now or like a date?”

 

Lexa laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to some food now, but I meant like a date. I don’t normally do casual hookups, so the fact that I had sex with you means that I actually really like you.”

 

Clarke smiled and linked her arms around Lexa’s neck. “Oh, yeah?” she asked. 

 

Lexa nodded. This time, she was the one to appear vulnerable and slightly uncertain as she waited for Clarke’s reply. 

 

“Well, that’s good,” Clarke said. “Because I really like you, too. How’s tomorrow night for you?”

 

Lexa smiled. “Tomorrow is perfect,” she said. “Especially since I still won’t be able to lay on my back.”

 

Clarke groaned, but it turned into a laugh. “Well, we’ll have to get creative, then.” 

 

“I guess so,” Lexa said. Then she kissed Clarke, soft and exploratory. They could each taste themselves on the other’s lips and it renewed their desire. “Will you tell me about this?” Lexa asked when they parted. Her fingers were trailing over the Gryffindor tattoo on Clarke’s hip. 

 

Clarke licked her lips. “Maybe one day soon,” she said, still not quite ready to bare that part of herself just yet. But she had a feeling Lexa would be the one person she revealed the true meaning of the tattoo to, and that it would be soon. Not even Raven or Octavia knew the reason, they just knew it was more than a simple Harry Potter reference. “I’m not quite ready just yet.” 

 

Lexa nodded in understanding. “Well, I hope I’m around when you are,” she said. 

 

Clarke smiled. “Me, too.” 

  
  
  
  
  


_ Six Weeks Later… _

 

Clarke leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her girlfriend’s forehead as the brunette finished up the document she was working on and closed her laptop. “Hey,” Lexa said, looking up at Clarke. 

 

“Hey,” Clarke said. She wrapped her arms around Lexa from behind and placed her chin in the crook of Lexa’s shoulder. “All done?” 

 

“For now,” Lexa said, breathing in the scent of her freshly-showered girlfriend. It had been a few weeks since she and Clarke had officially become girlfriends, and so far, things were going well. Better than well. Amazing. She was fitting in quite nicely with Clarke’s group of friends, and she’d been pleased to see how happy her cousin was with Octavia. She’d only met the girl once in passing before she’d gotten together with Clarke, but now she saw how good they were together. 

 

And don’t even get her started on the sex. The sex with Clarke was beyond mind-blowing. Their first night together had only been the start. And while, yes, Clarke’s sex toy collection  _ was _ impressive and they had delved into the boxes several times, most of the time, it was just  _ them _ . No need for anything other than than their own fingers, tongues, and other various body parts.  Not that they didn’t enjoy bringing out the toys from time to time, of course. Just that morning, Clarke had introduced Lexa to something called the  _ Womanizer _ . (Horrific name, yes, but god  _ damn _ the powerful orgasms that thing had given her.) 

 

“Should we order some food?” Clarke asked as she not-so-gracefully crawled over the back of the couch and plopped into the seat next to Lexa. 

 

Lexa laughed at Clarke’s playful mood, already looking forward to their evening spent together that would likely lead to her spending the night at Clarke’s. Again. Honestly, Lexa could probably count on both hands home many nights they’d spend apart in the last six weeks. Normally, that would have scared her, but with Clarke, it was so easy to just  _ be _ with her. They didn’t even need to have sex every night (they usually did, but there were times when exhaustion crept in and cuddling sufficed). 

 

“I was supposed to take you out for dinner tonight,” Lexa reminded. 

 

Clarke shrugged. “I feel like staying in,” she said, turning serious. “I noticed the date today and it’s significant for Raven. I want to be readily available if she needs me.” 

 

Lexa cocked her head to the side in curiosity. She still didn’t know the entire story of Raven’s tattoo. “Is it about her ex?” she asked carefully. 

 

Clarke nodded. “She usually goes into a funk on this day,” she started. “Because it’s the day she was supposed to leave for a summer study abroad trip to Spain, but her girlfriend at the time, Ontari, ‘changed her mind’ and wouldn’t let her go. When Raven insisted that she  _ was _ going, Ontari flipped out. It wasn’t pretty.” 

 

Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is Raven okay with you telling me this?” 

 

Clarke nodded. “She said I could a while ago,” she said. “It just never came up until now. I won’t go into too much detail, but Octavia essentially saved her life that night.” 

 

“How?” Lexa asked. 

 

Clarke sighed. “Raven and I practically grew up together, but we went to different colleges,” she explained. “By the time Raven got with Ontari, I was drowning in the premed program. I know it’s not my fault what happened to Rae, but I can’t help but feel guilty that I had absolutely no idea what was happening. I hadn’t even met Ontari. And Raven never really talked about her when we did manage to talk.”

 

Lexa placed a comforting hand on Clarke’s knee. 

 

“Anyway, long story short, Octavia was their next door neighbor and heard the commotion, then the yelling and screaming. She called the cops and stayed with Raven at the hospital until I could get there. That night pretty much cemented O in our lives. That was the final straw and what made me ultimately decide to drop out of college. I had missed so much of what was right in front of me because of it. That’s when I started tattooing full time. It gave me more time to actually have a life and was something that I enjoyed so much more.” 

 

“What happened to Ontari?” Lexa asked, curious to the fate of her. 

 

“She was sentenced to a few years in prison,” Clarke said. “She was released about six months ago, which is why I’m particularly worried about Raven tonight. But we can’t go to her. She has to come us to.”

 

Lexa nodded in understanding. Then a thought occurred to her. “Is there something significant about the date May twenty-first?” She asked the question softly, not wanting to upset her girlfriend. She’d noticed something distinctly off with the blonde on May twenty-first just a few weeks prior. The date stuck out in Lexa’s head because it was the same day that she had been named a full partner at the law firm where she worked. She’d been so excited and had tried to call Clarke immediately, only to receive her voicemail. That hadn’t worried her, of course. She’d figured Clarke was with a client or otherwise busy with work. But then she’d not gotten a call back or a return text for hours. By the evening, Lexa had begun to worry and decided to stop by Ink Drop to check up on her. It wasn’t like Clarke at all to ignore her. But Lincoln had said that Clarke hadn’t been scheduled to work that day even though she always worked Thursdays. She’d been ready to start panicking when Octavia had told her that Clarke just needed the day and would be back to normal the following day. 

 

And she had been. But Lexa didn’t mention it at all, and Clarke had seemed happy and surprised her with a congratulations dinner and sex marathon. Octavia had told her not to push it and that Clarke would tell her when she was ready, so she hadn’t said anything. 

 

With Clarke opening up about Raven, she decided to see if she was ready. 

 

Immediately upon asking about that particular date, Lexa watched Clarke’s face morph from a neutral expression to one of overwhelming sadness. 

 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Lexa rushed out. “I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke sighed and shook her head. “No, it’s okay,” she said. She took a deep, steadying breath. “I want you to know. May twenty-first is always a rough day for me. It has been for the last seven years.” She turned on the couch to fully face Lexa, knees drawn up to her chest. 

 

“What happened on May twenty-first?” 

 

“It was the day my dad died,” Clarke said. “I was eighteen and it was the weekend after my high school graduation. I was so excited to finally be done with it all. High school was really rough for me. But my dad always made me feel better after a bad day.” A small smile played across her lips as she remembered Jake Griffin. “He was absolutely obsessed with all things Harry Potter. He even managed to get advance entry to Harry Potter World before it even opened up to the public that year. He was a pretty prominent civil engineer and had some inside connections. We had the most amazing time. But the day we got back to Polis, there was a work emergency, so he sent us home with my mom while he went into work.” She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “There was an accident,” she said. “I don’t know all the details because it was a secret government project, but I know that there was an explosion of some kind. He was killed along with five others on his team.”

 

Lexa felt her stomach clench in agony for her girlfriend. “Clarke,” she said, voice raw with emotion. 

 

“I had just been with him, you know?” Clarke said, tears welling in her eyes and threatening to fall down her cheeks. “He was  _ fine _ , then he was dead.” She lost the battle with her tears. 

 

Lexa reached out and pulled Clarke into her, tucking her head beneath her chin as sobs wracked the blonde. She let her cry, knowing that no words would help in the moment. She just needed to cry. 

 

Clarke clutched Lexa’s shirt, burying her face into her chest. She felt oddly comforted rather than the usual panic she felt at allowing anyone who wasn’t her mother, Raven, or Octavia see her break down like this. She’d never told anyone else that she’d dated about her dad more than a passing comment about how he wasn’t alive anymore. But a lot of things were different with Lexa. With Lexa, she didn’t feel dread at opening up about things like her dad. Instead, she felt comforted in the knowledge that Lexa knew and could help comfort her though the worst times. 

 

Clarke gave a final sniffle and lifted her head. “I messed your shirt up,” she said offhandedly as she studied the splotches and smears of her eye makeup on the front of Lexa’s chambray shirt.  

 

Lexa looked down, then shrugged. “I don’t care,” she said with a small reassuring smile. “You can cry on me anytime you need to.” 

 

Clarke believed her. She sniffled. “I’m sorry for that,” she said. 

 

Lexa shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said. “I’m glad you opened up to me, even if it’s a painful thing.”

 

Clarke wiped her eyes with her fingers, cringing at the sight of the black smears on her fingers. Oh, well. She’d fix it later. “You’re easy to open up to,” she said. “And that’s unusual for me, to let anyone see me like that.”

 

Lexa smiled. “Me, too,” she said. She’d started telling Clarke more and more about her experiences in foster homes over the last several weeks, which she’d never done with anyone other than her cousin Lincoln, who had also been in the foster system, and Anya, who was her best friend. 

 

“Does this have anything to do with your Gryffindor tattoo?” Lexa asked, curious. 

 

Clarke grinned. “Yeah,” she said. “My dad was a Harry Potter super fan,” she said. “I grew up with him reading all the books to me as bedtime stories. A chapter a night until we’d gone through the entire series. He was a staunch Gryffindor, and not just because of our last name. He even had a Gryffindor scarf that he wore in the wintertime.”

 

Lexa smiled at that. 

 

“I wanted to get a tattoo that celebrated his life,” Clarke said. “But not something that was clandestine like his date of birth or something like that. So I thought what did he enjoy the most in the world? Other than me, of course.” She grinned at that. “Harry Potter. Gryffindor. It just felt right.” 

 

“I think it’s an amazing way to celebrate him,” Lexa said. 

 

“I just wish I hadn’t been such a chickenshit with my mom back then about visible tattoos,” Clarke said. “I could be wearing it proudly instead of hiding it all the time.”

 

“I don’t know,” Lexa said. “I think it’s kind of nice that it’s hidden. Like it’s just for you and no one else. If it was visible, you’d have to explain all the time why you have a Gryffindor tattoo.”

 

Clarke wrinkled her nose at that. “You have a point,” she said. “Anyway, I’ll probably go into a super funk every year on May twenty-first, so I hope you’re ready for that.”

 

Lexa just looked at her, a smile on her face. 

 

“What?” Clarke asked after a moment, worried. 

 

Lexa’s smiled broadened. “You just implied that I’ll be around for years to come,” she said. 

 

Clarke’s instinct was to deny it and pretend to be blasé about her own words, but she couldn't. Instead, she licked her lips and smiled. “I’d really like that,” she said softly. “I mean, if you want.” 

 

Lexa leaned in and kissed her softly. “More than you know,” she said, pressing her forehead to Clarke’s. “Because I’m really falling for you.”

 

Clarke felt her heart race in her chest as she stared into Lexa’s eyes, mesmerized still by the intensity of the green irises. “You are?” 

 

Lexa nodded, forehead still pressed to Clarke’s. “I am,” she said. 

 

Clarke kissed her hard, wrapping her hand around her neck to hold her in place. When they finally separated, they were both breathing hard. “I’m falling for you, too,” Clarke whispered. “Harder than I’ve ever fallen before, and that scares the shit out of me.”  

 

Lexa chuckled softly. “I know the feeling,” she said. “Let’s just jump into this together, yeah?”

 

Clarke laughed. “Okay.” She nodded. “Yeah.” They kissed again.

 

“Clarke?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I love you.” 

 

“I love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! (For now.) 
> 
>  
> 
> [THIS](https://78.media.tumblr.com/595ff9b5b86947e795905b63b3a2429f/tumblr_onu6bgJpbq1scmex7o1_500.jpg) is what I picture for Clarke's sternum tattoo. I really want one like it now. Because HOLY FUCK.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about how I picture Clarke's galaxy sleeve tattoo, imagine [THIS](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/17/4a/eb/174aeba43602658cade637f90b7042cd--galaxy-tattoo-sleeve-space-tattoo-sleeve.jpg), but a full sleeve. 
> 
> And, as always, please let me know what you think. :)


End file.
